


Closer

by Zail



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Cum Play, Dacryphilia, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, I forgot to mention that earlier, I posted this without having ByeB look at it, I'm capable of that apparently, Kurapika is hypersexual constantly, Kuroro likes to punish him, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Psychos in love, Rough Sex, They're stupid at times, Unsafe Sex, a little bit of hurt/comfort, degradation kink, i regret many things, slight blood play, sorry Hun, thrill seekers, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28605723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zail/pseuds/Zail
Summary: The smirk developed into a grin of pure mischievousness, the haze of sleepiness cleared from Kurapika’s mind as he shifted his body towards Kuroro’s. Pale-veined hands went for the ravenet’s phone, flipping to the previous song. It was Closer. The blond laughed, velvety and seductive, “Tell me, Kuroro, do you think of me when this plays? Perhaps one of the many times I’m bent over and begging for you to make me scream?”ORKurapika gets really horny while listening to Closer by Nine Inch Nails and decides to blow Kuroro whilst he drove, ending in him needing to be 'punished.'
Relationships: Kurapika/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer, Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer & Kurapika
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This was inspired by Sapphorror and cafeanna's car fics. If you haven't read either of them, please do, they're incredible writers with admirable talent and prose. You both rock, thank you especially to a cafe for giving me small words of encouragement to finish this.

It began with a silver glinted knife kissing the edge of Neon Nostrade’s throat, Yin and Yang of cosmic horror fleshed out into a cruel and spine chilling outline of fish; fangless mouths ripping apart men in expensive suits as easy as thin spread paper. Red eclipsed brown as they met twin voids embedded into porcelain-cut features, thin, bloodless lips speaking a proposition.

“I have an offer to propose to you, Kurapika Kurta,” Voice of liquid seduction, “Though I suggest you choose carefully, or this knife may slip.” Neon lay limp in his arms, swimming pools of cerulean blank, thin trail of crimson dripping down the pale expanse of her throat.

The world disappeared around Kuroro and Kurapika, bloody-handed fates intertwining in this very moment.

“11 remains empty, I propose you to fill the leg, in exchange for locations to the remaining scarlet eyes as well as the life of everyone in this room. You are free to carry your life as Leader of the Nostrade family, as long as you come at my beck and call.”

With that recherche knife pressing cruel kisses to his nape and pale cheek pressed thread-bare motel carpet, the twelve-legged spider of Kurapika’s PTSD-tinged memories was planted between twin diamond-cut shoulder blades, crimson edged tears dripped quietly from bleeding eyes as Machi’s needle embedded black into his skin.

That was when Kuroro realized he enjoyed watching Kurapika cry. 

He called the blond to scattered motel rooms across the boundless expanse of York New, always with a misshapen, clouded glass bottle swimming with bitter alcohol sounded throughout the always worn and smirched rooms. Kurapika wore the same close-knit expression, golden brows always drawn to the center, soft-peaked nose scrunched, and lips a thin line of poorly contained rage. He always wore those onyx contacts, though the bleeding crimson pooled and radiated at their edges.

Kuroro found comfort in dirt-tinged places, the stench of dank filled rooms sending bitter-sweet waves of nostalgia to dull his senses with the catch-penny liquor. Dirt made Kurapika squirm, always sending cheap smirks over the other man’s bloodless lips.

Those serpentine chains always went for Kuroro’s throat, blind rage weakening his senses. The motel rooms were always a wreck.

Seething attempts on Kuroro’s life with chains of hate-filled silver attempting to coil over his throat ended paralyzed on dirtied motel room floors, bleeding crimson spilling something unholy. He would leave Kurapika there, hoping maybe he’ll see through his revenge-clouded head. He never did, trying, again and again, achieving the same result. Kuroro would drink his cheap whiskey straight from the bottle, spouting drunken attempts of classic poetry or novels as Kurapika lay helplessly. The words never quite reached the blond’s ears as enraged eyes remain forced to the water-rotten ceilings above him.

Fruitless attempts of the Spider Head’s life turned to violent one-sided arguments that usually left Prussian-blue veins bulging from the blond’s forehead and bleeding nail marks in pale palms as he desperately attempted to gain a reaction from the usually tipsy man before him.

The night when Kurapika clawed the catch-penny bottle from Kuroro’s deft fingers and dumped the clouded liquid to mold-tainted carpet was the same night he was pushed onto a poor excuse of a mattress and bent in half, fucking his issues out with the very man whose head he wished to spear on a spike. The violent sex left both parties bruised and bloody for weeks, the slight limp in Kurapika’s strides was one that the Spider Head found himself wanting to make permanent.

Kurapika no longer needed a nearly robotic text to remind him to visit Kuroro’s room, always tracing that overly cautious and cold aura like a vulture to a rotting carcass. He tracked the man to his apartment, slamming open the thin-planked door against the poorly isolated walls before he would fuck Kuroro he wanted dead like his life depended on it.

Kurapika stopped caring of the plentiful bruises and bitemarks corrupting his skin like a poison, the red-tainted flesh embedded beneath the blunt crescents of nails, the ever-lasting white-hot pain shooting as he walked, the mess of knots against once silk-spun locks, or the twin violent plum of insomnia hanging from dragging eyes.

They could never be apart for longer than a few weeks, always crawling back like a cheap drug, despite both of them hating themselves for waking up next to each other. It was a drug that would bind them together for life as they knew each other better than anyone else, their tar-like love was something they could only suffocate in, but welcomed it like a dear friend.

Two years passed, and their love of handmade horror was as poorly stitched together as the fraying seats of the stolen car they were currently seated in. With Kurapikas blue flats propped dust-lined dashboard, a leather-bound book with gold stitched edges clutched between his pale-veined hands, he felt content as the Kuroro drove down the winding room lined with gargantuan trees of age-lined wood and stories more valuable the plagued descriptions in common museums. There was an insistent gray blanketing the afternoon sky, the occasional fat raindrop collided with the clouded glass windows as they drove through the desolate forest path. Kuroro’s playlist of soft rock and the occasional religious toned-songs played quietly throughout crackling car speakers, fingers tapping quietly against the cracked leather wheel, his phone in the cupholders decorated illy with years of stains and unknown masses. 

Kuroro’s long-winded attempt to convert the blond to Christianity was a vainful battle, ended by the single phrase of “if God was so loving and proud of the beings he created, why would he dump you onto a place of forgotten people? If he was real, you are surely nothing more than a forgotten reject preaching prayers he would simply ignore. You are nothing in his eyes. Your religion is nothing more than a group of macerating idiots clinging to something to place your blame upon.” The ravenet was rarely rendered speechless, but he realized at that moment that Kurapika was a lost cause, though he still tried.

Eventually, Kurapika placed the etched gold book in the cloth bag beneath his book, nose scrunching as a pale knuckle brushed against an unknown stain, wiping the brown residue from his hand on the cream-colored cloth of the bag. “Why did you choose a car that would render Meteor City clean?” Kurapika asked with a scoff.

“This was the only car in the blindspot of the security cameras, it’s not my fault,” Kuroro countered, his eyes still fixated on the gravel-ridden road.

“I’d like to believe you’re simply homesick, no person of normalcy would have chosen this car under any circumstance.” Deceivingly delicate carved arms crossed over an equally delicate chest, sweet curved lips curling on themselves, head tipping to the sky as his eyes fluttered shut, a light strain settling over his head from staring at the dully-printed pages. Kuroro’s music was softer toned, enough to loll him into a light sleep as the fat raindrops continued their agrestal song against the glass windows.

There was a familiar bass of a song.

A song he would listen to late at night, a smirk of nostalgia always playing over his gracefully-carved lips as the lyrics played, thinking of the many times Kuroro left him nothing but a sobbing and begging mess. The slight rustle of cloth caught against Kurapika’s sleep-hazed ears as the song was quickly changed. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his rosy lips, an eye cracking open, “Was that Closer by Nine Inch Nails?” Kurapika asked, a tone of mirth betraying his seemingly innocent question.

The hesitant silence betrayed Kuroro.

He sat up, crimson eyes flickering as his gaze lingered over Kuroro’s frame.

The smirk developed into a grin of pure mischievousness, the haze of sleepiness cleared from Kurapika’s mind as he shifted his body towards Kuroro’s. Pale-veined hands went for the ravenet’s phone, flipping to the previous song. It was Closer. The blond laughed, velvety and seductive, “Tell me, Kuroro, do you think of me when this plays? Perhaps one of the many times I’m bent over and begging for you to make me scream?” The voice Kurapika often used to seduce the Spider Head was on full display, gravelly tone mixing with liquid lust. Skilled fingers trailed over Kuroro’s thighs, nails rippling against inky denim as his body curved over the console that divided them, back arching like a fire-ready bow.

His head began to nestle against the front of Kuroro’s jeans, dexterous fingers with only lustful intent gliding over the plush skin of his thighs. Kurapika didn’t miss the twitch of the ravenet’s cock growing under his skilled ministrations or the slight veer of the wheel and jerk of the car. A laugh more air than sound left the blond vixen’s hot mouth, the humid breath fanning directly over Kuroro’s burgeoning erection through the cloth of his jeans. His fingers began to twitch against the cracked leather wheel, the sun-hardened material breaking and burying itself under yellow-pagued nails as they clenched against it. 

“I wanna fuck you like an animal,” Kurapika echoed as his teeth bit down onto the metallic zipper, pulling it completely down, nose nuzzling the hardening flesh as he trailed lower and lower. 

Kuroro’s foot twitched against the gas pedal at those words, the car jerking forward, but this did not deter the blond from his actions.

“Kurapika,” Kuroro tried, his voice a pitiful octave too high, “Kurapika, we’re going 60 miles per hour.” 

“Aww, is the world-class thief suddenly scared of a little thrill? Go faster, I dare you,” Kurapika spoke of a challenge, a challenge that sent a rush of adrenaline to both of their heads.

Fingers snaked beneath Kuroro’s boxers, pulling his cock from the black cloth. “Why do you hate color so much?” Kurapika asked, more to himself than the man writhing beneath his grasp.

Kuroro only replied with a throaty groan, the car drifting slightly against the gravel-ridden road, slick against the steady fall of the rain.

A pearly bead of precum dripped from Kuroro’s cock as it was exposed for Kurapika’s eyes to see, twitching slightly under the contrast of cold Autumn air and the blond’s hot breath. He knew all the ways to make the Spider Head writhe under his grasp, knew all the ways to suck him just right; it was a practiced skill. 

Kurapika’s hand worked to slick Kuroro’s cock with his precum, other clawing his inner thigh to spread his legs further apart.

“I wanna feel you from the inside,” Kurapika echoed again, lips ghosting over the slick head as he planted gentle kisses over the flushed skin. 

Kuroro shuddered at that, Kurapika’s bratty side on full display. 

He knew what he wanted.

Gag reflex be damned, Kurapika swallowed Kuroro’s entire dick in one go, bulbous head hitting the back of his throat with ease. He felt the hardened flesh twitch in his mouth, a salty taste sliding down his throat. The car drifted once again, and the blond tried in vain to keep the smile from his lips. He chuckled lightly, hearing a gasp from the struggling man above him.

“You fucking vixen,” Kuroro breathed, a hand forcefully gripping soft blond locks.

Blunt nails dug crescent into the ravenet’s inner thigh in response, sucking lightly on the length in his mouth before bobbing his head ever-so-slightly. The car jerked forward again, the loud revving cutting over the music and Kuroro’s light pants, forcing the blond’s mouth nearly off his cock then brutally back down. He choked over the shaft, a pearly stream of spittle and cum sliding down the corners of his mouth and staining the fabric of the Spider Head’s jeans.

He bobbed with his head practiced ease, a spare hand pumped what his mouth couldn’t, other trailing up and down Kuroro’s thigh. Kurapika’s back arched to a near crescent under the pleasure of the ravenet’s dick in his mouth along with the tugs at his hair, he felt the soft silk-slick neat locks knot and mat against the harsh grip. 

The car jerked just as often as Kurapika bobbed his head, the not-so-subtle veers, and drifts of the car sliding against the rain-soaked terrain, throttling them both in their seats. The occasional tree root or stray rock forced the blond’s throat up and down more, sending a thrill to both of their heads.

Closer had long since ended, a song preached religious hymns, and all things holy rang over the crackling car speakers, rendering the scene unfolding before the unlikely lovers as sin-laced irony.

The familiar wave of orgasm began to wash down Kuroro’s spine and deep into the pit of his stomach, breathless moans falling from his lips like a broken prayer; a prayer to Kurapika. 

Kurapika sensed the ravenet was close, and the thought of edging him crossed his mind like the snake in the garden, though he pushed the tempting idea down as his own arousal had become unignorable, the slight cant of his hips meeting the side of the dashboard was not close to enough. 

Kuroro’s legs clenched around Kurapika’s golden head as he came, the plentiful amount of cum spilling down his throat and chin.

They veered off the road he did, eyes flying closed and subconsciously twitching against the gas pedal, nails clenching around the cracked leather wheel, flakes of the sun-cracked material falling to the stained carpet like a grotesque snowfall. The orgasm and thrill created a new feeling, a feeling that forced the most intense orgasm out of Kuroro.

They hit a tree.

The jarring force of the crash would have most certainly killed any normal individuals in a gruesome matter, scattered limbs and splattered blood hidden behind a grueling veil of exhaust left for poor passersby. But these two had suffered worse, blood- staining hands reeking of each other and their sins. 

Kurapika’s Nen left a protective layer over himself and Kuroro and along with the front of the car. Though the force still shattered all of the glass windows to smithereens, the shards blowing past and all around them like a deadly crystalline rain. The glass decorated the seats and floors around them, though they remained unharmed. The front of the car was only slightly dented in, looking to more than a slight ‘tap’ against the chipping metal despite the car speeding over 80 miles per hour.

Kuroro was still panting from the aftermath of his viciously intense orgasm, head cocked skyward and pale, bloodless lips ajar. 

Kurapika untangled his limbs from Kuroro, a smirk playing over plum-shaded lips. The strain in his pants was nearly unbearable.

Without warning, Kuroro hoisted the blond from his seat and threw him against the leather-worn steering wheel, the car horn honking in protest for Kurapika as he did.

“You little fucking whore!” Kuroro growled, uncaring of the glass that sunk into Kurapika’s skin.

There was the Kuroro Kurapika loved, a hidden side triggered by his lust; an equally sex-crazed demon. Strip away all of their skin and bones, they were the same person, souls silver-bolted by loss of each other’s hand, their twisted love stitched together with threads of hatred, binding their history together like a quilt of hand-crafted horror and sin. This quilt of sick love cruelly blanketed them as they lay with each other, limbs twisting, bleeding nail marks, and bruises as they fucked. There was never gentle sex or ‘making love,’ their histories would never allow that.

“I’m your little whore,” Kurapika echoed, whites of teeth flashing with a smile of pure whimsicality.

A silver-edged dagger of Nen formed over Kuroro’s fingers, tearing Kurapikas’s grey sweatpants and black t-shirt to nothing more than coin-sized fragments of cloth falling to the stained and pitifully threadbare carpet beneath the wheel. Steady droplets of blood dripped from hair-line cuts that now decorated Kurapika’s body; only more paint to the canvas. The constantly shifting plum, blueberry, and raspberry marks lining the blond’s body were exposed to the cold Autumn air, the fragments of splintered glass sinking deeper into his skin and spilling over. 

“You really couldn’t fucking keep your hands to yourself, could you?” Kuroro’s deft fingers dug into the twin set of almost permanent plum bruises on either side of Kurapika’s hips.

“I gave you the best head in your life, you ungrateful ass.” Kurapika spread his legs wider, flushed cock pointed skyward with a liquid pearl of cum trailing down the side. The horn sounded against the light shift.

“We could have fucking died!” Kuroro yelled through clenched teeth, crimson spillage cascading down Kurapika’s thighs.

Kurapika chuckled, a hand toying with the shaggy and slowly yellowing fur trim on Kuroro’s prized coat, “That certainly would make for an interesting obituary, Machi always said that we’re going to kill each other one day,” A languorous smirk spread over the finely carved skin of his lips. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

Serpentine fingers encircled over Kurapika’s sinuously curved neck, blunt nails leaving reddened trails over the paper-white skin. “I should let you suffer,” Kuroro hissed against Kurapika’s neck, humid breath fanning over the chilled skin, “Maybe tie you to the chair covered in glass, tie your pathetic little cock up and wait until someone finds you. How humiliating would that be, hmm?” His tongue licked over the sinful trails of reddened skin over the blond’s neck.

Kurapika hissed at the warm tongue burning against his neck, “You’ve killed everyone I’ve ever slept with, you possessive fuck. You’d gut anyone that even comes close to the car.” 

He chuckled lowly at that, gravelly tone going straight to Kurapika’s dick, “That’s right, only I’m allowed to see you flushed and open, I’m the only one allowed to ruin you. You belong to me, you filthy slut. I wonder how your parents feel with you fucking the very man that killed them.”

A chain of silver coiled over Kuroro’s throat, Kurapika’s shoe pressed to firm-carved muscle, dirt grinding against the colorless material, blazing crimson eyes flickering in warning. “I wonder how Uvogin and Paku feel when I ride your dick.”

Kuroro smiled cruelly against the shoe that sent crack-whip waves of pain down his spine, the threat of a broken rib looming over him. The convolute chains wrapped tightly enough to leave blue-tainted bruises over his neck lightened as Kuroro’s hand pushed the blond back into the steering wheel. The horn sounded once again. “I will make you cry,” Kuroro threatened as Kurapika's legs wrapped around his lower back, silvery fragments slicing bleeding ribbons plush porcelain skin.

“Do it.” Kurapika’s voice a siren on a starless night at sea.

Kuroro’s fingers thrust themselves into Kurapika’s mouth. Traces of his orgasm still slick on his tongue. “That’s it, little slut. This is all you’re getting,” He hissed with venom, not missing the way Kurapika’s swollen cock twitched at the comment.

Kurapika’s tongue expertly swirled over the fingers, slicking them with his saliva as he sucked lightly. Traces of dirt spread over his tongue as well, though he tried to ignore it. 

Kuroro removed his 3 fingers, a lewd ‘pop’ and a silver-beaded string of saliva connected Kurapika’s mouth to his hands. The blond cringed at the taste of dirt and something else over his tongue, “Why are your hands so dirty?” sloped button nose scrunched, and harsh lines formed over his face as he pulled Kuroro’s wrist to meet his eyes. He sighed.

“I don’t fucking know.” Kuroro’s wrist pulled away from Kurapika’s hands. His spit-covered fingers meeting the sides of his jeans. 

Luminous white replaced crimson for a brief moment as Kurapika sighed.

“Stretch yourself then.” Ebony brows sagged as Kuroro spoke, his tone that of a father scolding a child.

“Fine, at least I can avoid some of your diseases,” Kurapika spit into his own palm, a deep furrow forming over golden brows at the speckles of brown and tan in the white-tainted mixture of saliva. “Look at this shit, you dirty bastard,” he held the opal-like concoction to Kuroro.

The whites of his eyes flashed briefly, “You want to take me raw then?” The ravenet inquired.

It was a wordless reply as Kurapika grabbed at Kuroro’s second growing erection, his hand sliding over the hardened flesh as he spread slow drips of pre over the shaft. He shifted his legs just over the ravenet’s dick, the tip rimming against his fluttering hole. He gasped at that, sinking himself down ever-so-slightly, despite the look of impatience crossing Kuroro’s pale visage. A smirk tugged at his lips, leaning him close to the Spider Head’s mouth, a light kiss before he sunk fully onto the man’s cock, spearing him completely. Kurapika’s legs shook like frail tree branches in a stringent wind around the ravenet’s thighs, heel digging deep into the small of his back. 

The stretch was close to unbearable, the light layer of cum spread of Kuroro’s cock was the only salvation from keeping Kurapika from crying out. He’d taken the man raw before, but usually with a generous amount of lube to slide against. This felt almost primal, save for shattered leaded glass and crumbling metal encasing them. The blond was still slightly open from their previous intense session only a day ago, which involved Kurapika bent over the bathroom sink of their last motel, nails scratching the unpolished, catch-penny marble as Kuroro mercilessly pounded into him while he whispered sinful filth into his ear. He liked the way the man gazed at him in the sombre reflection of the chipping mirror, those abyssal eyes reading his very soul as they fucked.

The car seat lurched backward, Kurapika nearly falling through the now apparent gap between the seat and steering wheel. Kuroro’s impatient hands gripped the blond’s pale thighs, pulling his torso towards him, the blades of his shoulders coming to rest on the heart of the steering wheel, flakes of leather fluttered to the floor at the sudden movement.

There was no warning when Kuroro began to thrust into Kurapika with a tempered passion, brows knit to the center, the whites of front teeth sinking into the nearly colorless skin of his bottom lip. His hands gripped the wheel handles and curled into the leather once again.

Kurapika couldn’t help the fervent string of curses slipping from his mouth as Kuroro rocked his body, jutting wingspan bumped against the car horn, the only sound aside from his quiet pants.

“Look at you, you look so pathetic like this,” Kuroro hissed inches away from Kurapika’s face, onyx smeared heavily with glazed lust.

Kurapika could only mewl at those words, his cock twitching against his stomach, the bead of precum slipping down his shaft. Thin digits curled into Kuroro’s hair, ink-toned locks slick with the gel Kurapika despised. His hands anchored themselves to the base of the taller man’s neck, pulling the thick strands hard enough to earn a hiss from him.

A hand clamped over the wine shaded bruises over Kurapika’s hip, white-hot pain shot over his side like jagged lightning, quickly morphed to pleasure as Kuroro rammed into the blond’s prostate. The horn sounded against the full-body twitch that wracked through his frame. He keened at the feeling against that special spot inside him, back arching like a crescent moon in a clear sky. 

“You’re nothing more than a hole with a heartbeat to me, I hope your worthless parents are watching as I make you cry on my cock,” Kuroro hissed in Kurapika’s ear, teeth clenching against the faded silver of his ruby earring.

Kurapika twisted his knee around Kuroro’s back, his foot colliding with the ravenet’s head, forcing alabaster-white teeth to meet the top of the steering wheel. A noise of pain radiated over the vicinity, warm wetness splashing over Kurapika’s forehead.

He ceased his thrusts, abyssal pits met drowning crimson, “You really are a little bitch,” he smiled through blood-stained teeth, a stream of blood poured from his nose, a perpetual rain of sin cascading down to Kurapika’s porcelain skin.

“You reap what you sow, asshat,” Kurapika growled.

An airy chuckle washed over Kurapika’s features, “Galatians 6:8; For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption, but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. Mmm, I thought you hated anything quoted from the Bible,” Kuroro thrust again, his cock hitting Kurapika’s prostate dead on.

Kurapika moaned at that, the coherent string of words he attempted to retort melted away at the roll of Kuroro’s hips.

Kuroro thrusts hit a vigorous pace, rattling Kurapika’s frame with every movement. The blond’s eyes had fallen shut from the white-hot pain that slowly morphed into electrifying pleasure, golden eyelids fluttering closed and toes curling next to the ravenet’s sides. A burgeoning pool of slick opal formed at the base of Kurapika’s stomach, streaming off to his sides. His erection sat hard against his pelvis; cherry red from the strain.

“Kuroro~” Kurapika mused, pale veins flaring as he clawed down the ravenet’s leather-clad arms.

“That it, slut, say my name. I’m going to make you cry.” Kuroro uttered through clenched teeth, enjoying the halcyon-ridden expression on Kurapika’s visage, the steady trickle of blood tainted jasmine-white skin.

Kurapika keened at that, excitement coiling down his spine like a slick, deadly snake, coming to rest in the base of his stomach. Crack-whip flares of pain still wracked his frame despite the familiar warmth pooling in his stomach. He was close.

“Kuroro, p-please,” Kurapika was cut off by the Spider Head’s cock ramming straight into his prostate again. 

A chain shot out of Kurapika’s palm at that, coiling languidly around Kuroro’s wrist, pulling him closer. “That’s it, lose control.” He whispered in the flushed shell of the blond’s ear, his hand curling over his erection, thumbing the slit.

That’s all it took for Kurapika to cum, pain-wrenched flashes of lightning cracking beneath his skin, ending with mind-numbing sparks of pleasure as he climaxed, spurts of white decorating his chest. His body spasmed and clenched around Kuroro’s, blue flats digging into the taut expanse of the Spider head’s lower spine and back arching like a fire-ready bow.

Kuroro didn’t cease his thrusts as he felt another orgasm building, the delicious clench of Kurapika’s muscles adding a wonderful slide against his cock. His hips faltered as the wave began to wash over him, its crest foaming and curving, rolling over as he deposited his release deep in the blond. 

Sweat-soaked and the subtle ambiance of heaving chests settled over them, still connected intimately. Kuroro wiped the drying stream of blood from his face with the back of his sleeve, thoughtful brows furrowing at the dark stain against the timeworn fabric.

“You didn’t make me cry.” Kurapika declared, that same alabaster grin of whimsy falling over his lips.

The corners of Kuroro’s lips tugged upward in a smile of pure sadism and malice, “I’m not done with you yet, brat.” His hand fingered for the recline button, the other pulling Kurapika towards his chest. The chair fell backward, a ghastly noise of protest from the rusted and broken mechanism sounding throughout the car. 

Kuroro’s dick slipped from Kurapika from the harsh movement, as did a warm stream of cum. Calloused hands found themselves dancing over the blond’s fluttering rim, a fat pearl slid over his worn finger pads. “You’re dripping just for me,” Kuroro whispered in Kurapika’s ear, bringing his finger to the blond’s cherry-red lips. 

The lick of a kitten swirled over the thin digit, a moan slipping from Kurapika’s lips as the ravenet grabbed a handful of his ass, nails leaving shallow crescents in the plush skin.

Kurapika’s lips collided with Kuroro’s for a fiery kiss, hot tongues melding together in a sensual dance. A trace of blood intermingled between their mouths, the blond’s tongue slowly invading the Spider Head’s mouth, exploring the very familiar cavern. 

They parted for air for a brief moment, Kuroro’s teeth bit Kurapika’s swollen bottom lip as they did.

Kuroro released the blond’s lip, red-tinted string of saliva connecting them still. “You’re gonna ride me until you’re praying to God.” He breathed.

“You’ve been full of nothing but empty promises today, Lucilfer.” Kurapika’s hip grinded over Kuroro’s dick, the organ stirring once more beneath him. 

Kurapika sighed at the black wall of clothing between his skin and Kuroro’s. Pouty lips and glassy eyes stared into twin voids as the blond’s sweat-slicked fingers toyed with the fraying edges of Kuroro’s ink colored t-shirt.

Kuroro thrust upwards, shattering Kurapika’s silent plea. 

Without vision, Kurapika’s hand wound around to Kuroro’s erection, fisting the heated organ to hardness. He lowered himself over the other’s dick, feeling a violent crack of fire igniting throughout his lower body. The slide was easier than before, he thanked the plentiful amount of cum up his ass for that.

Kuroro liked the look of pain crossing Kurapika’s visage, pearly teeth biting over cherry-red lips, the flush tainting his jasmine-white skin, slits of bleeding crimson poured from lithe limbs, curtain of silk-spun gold clung to his sweat-soak forehead and cheeks. The dried droplets of blood slowly began to melt away from his features like heated wax, the particles slipping down slowly. He loved it when Kurapika looked like this, take the Kurtan down from his stone fortified castle of pride and memories, he was nothing more than a vessel seeking feeling; lustful feeling that left him limping for days.

Kuroro thrust his hips deep into the blond to snap himself out of his thoughts, head of gold falling forward at that.

“Oversensitive much?” Kuroro mused, thrusting his hips again.

“Fuck off.” Kurapika replied, meeting the lazy cant of the other man’s hips. Thin fingers dug into the tops of Kuroro’s thighs to hold him steady.

The subtle sound of skin against skin filled the car along with Kurapika’s quiet sounds of pleasure, he was too far gone to mask the cracks of pain tinged pleasure that wracked his body. Legs of tainted porcelain violently shook like dead leaves in a windstorm, small beads of blood formed over his thighs from the glass particles illy decorating the seat. 

Kurapika didn’t have the energy in his legs to lift himself anymore, so he rolled his hips over Kuroro’s dick, enjoying the way he gasped at each motion. The blond’s breathing was ragged as the looming exhaustion slowly crashed over him.

“I can’t.” He finally muttered, a look of defeat over his features.

Another wordless act as Kuroro flipped Kurapika beneath him, their limbs tangling together. The blond was effectively bent in half as Kuroro slotted his arms around his legs, keeping them high in the air.

Kurapika’s feet touched the ceiling of the car, toes sliding against the threadbare fabric. He couldn’t help the nearly inhuman noise slip from his throat as Kuroro rammed into him without remorse, slamming his prostate with his unhuman thrusts.

“I want to see you cry.” He growled above the blond.

“What happened to the name-calling?” Kurapika managed to slur out between the harsh rocks of his body. 

“What, you like me calling you out for the cock-pocket that you are?” Kuroro’s fingers slotted to the plum-shaded bruises over the Kurtan’s hips.

“Yes!” He cried out through an electric spike of pain tinged pleasure shooting up his spine.

Flashes of lightning flickered behind Kurapika’s eyes as he felt the vast, boiling whirlpool of an impending orgasm brew deep inside of him, the crackling of pleasure sparking beneath his skin.

“K-Kuroro, please, I’m so close!” Kurapika cried out between the near demonic paced thrusts.

The storm brewing beneath his skin ceased at the sudden halt of Kuroro’s thrusts.

“Kuroro, please.” The blond cried out, his cock aching with the need to orgasm.

“I want to see a waterfall running from your beautiful eyes, slut.” Kuroro’s face was a mere inch away from Kurapika’s. He could see every pore, every minuscule imperfection over that jasmine-white skin.

Voracious chains coiled over Kurapika’s hips, trapping the ravenet’s hands between them. The metallic bonds encircled his waist as well, pulling him closer to the blond. The alluring red hue of his eyes bathed the dark-toned interior of the smirched car, the glass shards reflecting something sinister and looked to be dipped in fresh blood.

Kuroro snapped his forward once again, bulbous cock head hitting the Kurtan’s pleasure spot head-on. His entire body shook in response, crackling thunder flashing behind his eyes, suspended legs shaking violently. A sob was forced from Kurapika’s abused throat. A tear slipped from his left eye, the violent crimson hue reflecting crystalline blood.

There was the look Kuroro loved, the overtly proud man stripped to nothing but a sobbing mess, begging for release. That was all it took to drive forward, thrusting into the blond without a second thought.

A sob fell from Kurapika’s kiss-swollen lips with each thrust, the waterfall of tears Kuroro adored streamed down his porcelain skin, cleansing the dried flakes of blood from his cheeks and temples. The crystalline droplets wet the threadbare cloth beneath him, though they were only ordinary tears, forming a small, circular pool in the dulled grey fabric.

A powerful storm of pleasure brewed beneath their skins, the blinding crackling of lightning met white-crested waves, falling together in rhythm as Kuroro’s hips began to stutter as the tsunami of his orgasm began to climax.

The near inhuman scream that slipped from Kurapika’s lips was all it took for the potent wave to crest over, tipping and crashing over Kuroro as the hardest orgasm he’d ever experience. His seed was buried deep in his unlikely lover beneath him.

The warmness coating Kurapika’s hole tipped him over the edge as well, lightning igniting beneath his skin, blinding him and branching throughout his entire body as he came. Cum decorated his stomach, the pool of pre slipping down his hips.

Kuroro collapsed a top Kurapika, earning a soft ‘oof’ from the spent blond. He didn’t care that the Kurtan’s cum stuck itself to his stomach. “You’re so beautiful when you cry.” He whispered in his ear, tongue toying with the dulled silver earring. 

“What happened to the poor insults?” Kurapika’s voice was muffled beneath Kuroro’s shoulder, his heated breath tickling the sweat-soaked skin.

“Those insults were towards a trait you carry, not a psychical description,” Came a smartass retort.

“Oh?”

“You’re a cock slut, Kurapika, but a beautiful one.” Kuroro kissed away the drying tears over Kurapika’s jasmine-white cheeks.

“I’m your cock slut,” Kurapika replied, “Now get off of me.” Damp palms pushed at the muscle taut skin of Chrollo’s biceps.

Kuroro replied with a groan, slipping the car door open and stepping out. Adjusting his monochromatic attire, he tucked himself away, wiping the starkly contrasting cum from the base of his dark t-shirt and jeans. An annoyed scoff slipped from his chapped, reddened lips at the sight of the fraying and ripples in the fabric of the denim. He ripped the dangling threads from the material and flicked them to the sodden forest floor, standing out for only a moment before disappearing into the terrain; lost forever. Calloused hands ran through inky locks, the hardened skin catching on the strands. A thin coat of grease lined his hand, evidence of the shower he skipped that morning. 

The blond stepped forth from the car in all his naked and wounded glory, uncaring if a car were to pass. Kuroro’s eyes caught the thick, pearly liquid slipping down Kurapika’s thighs, unable to help the mirthful smile that tugged at the corners of his thin-carved lips. 

“The car should work, the wall I placed absorbed the majority of the damage.” His tone was far too casual for his current lack of clothing.

“This could have been avoided if you could’ve kept your slutty hands to yourself.” Kuroro retorted with a light-toned scoff.

“Yeah? Well, you came thrice, I suppose it wasn’t the worst occurrence.” Kurapika’s back was still turned to Kuroro, examining the dented curves of the bent metal and chipping pine-green paint.

“Worst occurrence, ay?,” He breathed, stepping back into the stain-defiled vehicle. With a glass tainted foot on the gas pedal and hand clutching the reverse, the car removed itself from the colossal tree. Splintered wood embedded itself into the scratched metal hood, though the tree remained mostly untouched. The scattered scars over the gnarled bark were no more than a stroke of paint in their age-told masterpiece. 

Kurapika muttered a phrase in Kurtan, a small smile pulled at those kiss-bitten lips as he gazed to the gargantuan tree base. 

"I suppose this wasn't the worst occurrence." Kuroro echoed with a cheeky smirk. 

The whites of Kurapika's eyes flashed as he rolled them, the diminishing hue of the scarlet eyes tinting his features. 

"The glass?" Kurapika gestured forward to the crystalline shards cruelly bedecking the seats. 

“Worry about your own glass.” Kuroro glanced to Kurapika’s bloodied skin, an abstract horror that was alluring as much as it was grotesque. Flecks of glass embedded into the supple skins of his legs reflected dully against the light.

Kuroro summoned Skill Hunter, the frayed leather-bound book forming in his palm. Absently, he flipped open to the yellowing page of Shizuku, the contrasting crisp and glossy photo shining dully against the grey forest hue. Kuroro always felt a faint admiration for her; a quiet, though occasionally dimwitted, girl of simple goals and simple enthusiasms, she was one of the least dramatic members of his ragtag gang of thieves, always asking a minimal amount of questions and carrying out his whims with ease.. A caring smile always found itself etched upon Kuroro’s silent and pale lips in her presence.

Blinky formed in his hand, pale liquid agate slipped from its jagged and misshapen teeth. Its odd, slightly dopey eyes stared to Kuroro, awaiting instruction.

“Blinky, remove the glass from the car and only the glass.” He spoke assertively, his voice crisp as he spoke his command.

The machine responded with a bizarre noise, Kuroro watched from his peripheral as gold-knit brows folded to the center of Kurapika’s face, those usual forehead creases deepening.

Blinky nearly lurched from Kuroro’s grasp as it devoured the nearly luminous shards, more inhuman noises slipping from its tongue of cosmic horror. The creature bled, dripping crimson concocting with froth as it continued to consume the glass.

The creature emitted a sound upon completion, vaguely blinking at Kuroro with its soulless, empty pupils. “Thank you, Blinky. You are no longer needed.” Kuroro commanded with a practiced friendly smile. Blinky chirped once again as he closed Skill Hunter.

“That creature belongs in a museum of nightmares.” Kurapika commented, an expression close to that of a crumpled paper.

“I always do enjoy watching Shizuku clean, though I must admit, using it first hand is not as pleasurable.” He wiped the gelatinous, blood-slicked substance from his left wrist. It reeked of death; evidence of the countless souls consumed to Blinky’s void.

Kurapika strode to the passenger seat of the smirched car, blatantly unabashed by his own nudity. “I’d like my suitcase.” He spoke once Kuroro resettled himself into the driver’s side, “My clothes were ripped to smithereens.” He gestured to the untouched pile of ripped cloth beneath the other man’s feet.

The ravenet only chuckled, “ You need to get the glass out of your legs before I give you clothes.” A mirthful smile tugged at his lips. “You seem content being nude, anyway.” 

“Give me something to pick the glass out then.” Kurapika nearly demanded.

“No, you could leave smaller shards in and make the situation worse. I’ll take care of it when we get to the motel, it’s only about 2 hours out from here.”

“Your logic is flawed, there’s more risk of infection the longer I leave it in. You see how dirty this car is.” Kurapika’s hand vaguely gestured to the car’s poor-kempt interior.

“It’s a pick your poison type of situation, then. Though, for me, one is far better…” Onyx eyes trailed over Kurapika’s nude frame.

“Fucking perv.” Kurapika crossed his arms over his chest, resettling his pale, lithe legs over the dust-blanketed dashboard. He managed to cover himself at that moment, though the drying trails of cum slick over his inner thighs were visible.

“You jumped me in a moving car.”

The blond only scoffed at that, turning his head to the glassless window. 

The rain seemed to have cleared by now, the blanketing grey lightning in its fluffy layers as they drove through the desolate mountain path. Kuroro liked the way Kurapika’s golden locks tossed in the wind and the goosebumps that pricked his pale-veined skin.

With practiced ease, Kuroro opened his phone, eyes darting between the uneven road and the blue-lit device in front of him. His playlist crackled through the time-worn speakers, wind overpowering the majority of the music. He tried to crank the speaker system, though crackling overtook made teasing stabs at their eardrums. The ravenet sighed at that, deciding it was better than nothing. 

Time smeared with the passing evergreens and dull mountain gray, only the occasional fleck of sun fighting past the thick blanket of everlasting grey shone against the gravel-ridden road. The temperature dropped throughout the dull afternoon, the goosebumps prickling into Kurapika skin settling into his bones, he couldn’t control the occasional convulses that riddled his frame against the biting winds. His eyes rolled whenever his and Kuroro’s gaze met, shifting his nude body away from the other man. 

Kurapika’s pale fingers trailed over the expanse of his equally pale legs, toying with the glass embedded deep into his skin, voicing quiet complaints beneath the white whistle of the wind whenever Kuroro warned him against it. At some point, he had reached for a half-drunk bottle of Brandy, swirling the liquid amber before kissing his lips to the cloudy glass. He choked on it, always refusing the alcohol offered to him. Thin trails streamed from his lips as he coughed into the palm of his hand. The Brandy reeked of common cough syrup, assaulting Kurapika’s tongue and nose as he dribbled the toxin over his legs of handmade horror. Splashes of the liquid flew against his chest at the harsh pull of the wind, chilling him further. Alabaster teeth cut into bruised lips as a violent crack ricocheted beneath his skin; a vain attempt to hide the pain.

The sun began to set when the itching began; thin crescents forcing red trails around the cuts of his legs, the glass reflecting rouge against the setting sun. Kuroro noticed Kurapika’s brows pressed tight against his eyelids as mindless fingers ruined his canvas-white skin further.

“Kurapika, stop.” He nearly pleaded as the blond drew fresh blood from a cut near his thigh.

He didn’t.

“Kurapika.” He said again, right hand attempting to pry off Kurapika’s. “Are you drunk?” He intoned, realizing the entire bottle of Brandy was nothing more than an empty glass now.

Kurapika didn’t reply again, Kuroro’s hand still struggling with the blond’s. His concerned hand conveniently grazed the other man’s dick, pulling a sigh from him as well as loosening his grip on his bloodied thigh.

An idea flashed over Kuroro’s mind at that, his hand didn’t retract from Kurapika’s pelvis.

“What are you doing?” The blond nearly slurred as his left thigh was pulled to the floor, he didn’t quite resist Kuroro.

“Distracting you, and returning the favor.” Kuroro stated a bit too casually as his hand pushed against the blond’s sternum, his back colliding with the threadbare cloth. His eyes didn’t once leave the road, too familiar with every diamond-cut crevice, every mount of freckle smeared across jasmine-white skin to need to look. Kurapika’s chains snaking over his eyes in many of their heated nights lead Kuroro to learn the map of the blond. “Are you cold?” Mirth-tipped tone rang in the ravenet’s voice at the prickles of Kurapika’s skin beneath his finger pads.

“Take a fucking guess.” Kurapika spat, spreading his thighs apart as the deft fingers trailed lower across his stomach.

“You really are cold.” Kuroro mused as his fingers trailed over Kurapika’s shaft, which slightly retreated into his skin. He didn’t miss the way the blond flinched at the tender contact, “And really sensitive.” He added with a slight smirk.

“I’m drunk, and I came twice no more than 2 hours ago.” 

“Call it evening the score?” Kuroro proposed, his hand spreading warmth over Kurapika’s sleepy shaft.

Kurapika rolled his eyes before canting his hips to meet Kuroro’s eager hand.

Kuroro’s hand grasped Kurapika’s dick, which began hardening against his hand. Precum pearled over the tip, glossing over the reddening shaft as the ravenet thumbed over it. He liked the way Kurapika writhed beneath him, soft sounds echoing around them as the wind rushed past.

“Faster.” Kurapika whimpered, his head lolling backward toward the headrest in Kuroro’s peripheral, a few of the blond strands clung to his face in a cold sweat.

Kurapika’s hands stroked down the milky expanse of his thighs, crescent nails striking red across the supple skin.

The car came from a screeching halt in the center of the road, a grey stained cloud of dust trailing the car as Kuroro slammed the breaks. Kurapika lurched in his seat, the ravenet’s hand pushed against his dick.

“You broke the rules,” Kurapika protested weakly, “Keep driving.”

“I never set any rules, slut.” Kuroro retorted as he lifted Kurapika’s wrists behind the misshapen headrest and pinned them there.

Kurapika jolted at the term, his cock twitching under Kuroro’s persistent hand. 

Deft fingers continued to stroke his throbbing dick, and Kurapika couldn’t help but writhe, cold sweat beaded from pale temples, raspberry blush blanketing flushed cheeks, neck a canvas of blooming crimson and plum. Crimson allure radiated from his recherche eyes, Kuroro couldn’t help but swoon for the treasure coming undone under his hand.

“I’m going to-” Kurapika tried, a keen leaving rosy lips, “Kuroro!” He sobbed, head skyward in a broken prayer.

Flashes of lightning-ignited behind Kurapika’s eyes as he came, white-hot release coating Kuroro’s hand. A pang of satisfaction curled in his insides as the primal pants echoing from his throat evened. Fingertips pressed against swollen parted lips, heated, sticky cum pressed against his tongue. On near instinct, he wrapped his lips around the lithe fingers, sucking his salty essence from Kuroro’s digits.

His fingers left Kurapika’s mouth with another sultry ‘pop,’ the delicate, silver-bared string of saliva connecting them.

“Good slut.”

Kurapika groaned at that, “Stop.”

Kuroro only chuckled, wiping Kurapika’s spit on the soiled side of his jeans, eyes averting to the seemingly infinite road laying ahead. His arms fumbling awkwardly as he removed his fur-trimmed long coat from his frame, tossing it atop Kurapika's sweat-ridden body. It landed over his head, startling the man.

“Thanks,” He said flatly, curling the tattered fabric over his prickled skin, thin-tipped nose nuzzling the yellowing and cling-ridden fur trim. His pale nose scrunched at the foul stench of months of dirt and the unknown permeating in the fibers of the coat. “This reeks,” Tone dipped in annoyance and flaring at the words, “But it reeks of you.” The peak of his nose further nuzzled the coarse fur.

“How romantic.”

“Keep driving, I can feel the infections brewing.” Kurapika’s arms crossed his chest once again.

Kuroro’s hand pulled Kurapika’s soft-carved chin towards him, planting a singular and oddly chaste kiss upon his swollen lips. “As you wish, dear.” The ravenet’s breath over the Kurtan’s mouth.

“Oh, fuck off.” Kurapika pulled away, eyes rolling to the next dimension.

“We both know we can’t live without each other, dear.” Kuroro’s gaze tipped arrogant as he eyed the blond.

“How does that lyric in Closer go,” His eyes flicked skyward in thought, “Ah yes, ‘you let me complicate you.’” 

Kuroro only laughed, shifting the car to drive as he spared the blond one last loving glance before he turning his gaze to the winding road, a soft smile carving into his lips.

“This is why I love you, Kurapika Kurta.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one week project. It's been a month. 
> 
> Lmao, so this is based on a friend's fling with a girl he had, he and I were chilling in a random parking lot smoking a blunt when he told me the grand story of how he almost got into a car crash as he gave his then fling head as she drove, then she got him off as she drove. There was no violent car crash sex, but I still don't know how they're alive. It sparked something in me, I wanted to write something about it for a while, but I was still finishing off TSDOS and didn't want to switch over. Well, Sapp's and cafe's car fics were the nails in the coffin to write this...piece of gory sex. The friend that I wrote this on fucking died wheezing when I asked if I could use his story for a fic. His only response when he read the draft was "Lmao, this is fucking gross, but I love it." I love him.
> 
> For the process though, the first 6k words went by smoothly, then my work decided I was like the only valid employee and made me work A LOT. When I was finally free of that, I lost motivation to finish this, but I did. The hardest 2k words of my life, I legit poured my blood, sweat, and many tears into it. Honestly, I'm not very happy with how most of this turned out, but I'm sick of looking at it and it would probably sit in my storage if I didn't finish it soon. I'm going to try to work on some other projects after this.
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is welcome here. Please leave kudos or comments if you liked this fic, I want to know if it actually sucks or if in my head.
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
